


Ever Afters

by Kitkatzgr8



Series: Corpse Groom [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Logan is kinda hecking smart, M/M, Panic Attacks, Remains of the Day edition, Sanders Sides - Freeform, Virgil is good at piano, help my boys, piano playing, roman has the voice of a god, sanders sides corpse bride au, this is kinda crappy but I don't care anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 19:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16101848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkatzgr8/pseuds/Kitkatzgr8
Summary: Roman is Extra(tm) AF about his death, Logan is the only sane one, and Virgil just kinda goes with it.





	Ever Afters

**Author's Note:**

> Me: So... Remains of the Day is a great song and I wanna work that in somehow. Problem is, who should sing it? Should I introduce one of the Shorts characters into this for Bonejangle's part, or-  
> Also Me: Roman should do it  
> Me: But... Roman's the groom? Emily didn't sing the song? That would be so weird? I mean, like, who would write a song about their death?  
> Also Me: ...  
> Me: ...  
> Also Me: There's literally nobody else Extra enough  
> Me: Fair enough

Virgil woke up slowly, which was normally suggestive of him finally having a good night’s rest. Really, any morning that he didn’t wake up with a jerk, heart pounding and in a cold sweat with whatever nightmares decided to plague him that night still running through his mind, counted as a good night for him. And in most recent nights, where had once woken alone to a shadowed room without the ability to breathe, he now woke with a start to a comforting touch and whispered reassurances in his ear, sinking back down to sleep in a warm and protective embrace.

In the week he had been betrothed to Patton, he had a lot more of those good nights.

But even though he had woken slowly, curled up in the protective embrace of another, his heart still was beating strangely. His mind was buzzing under a layer of sleep, and even though he was straining to make sense of the blurred thoughts and flashes of panic, to figure out what was wrong, all he could hear was a slight ringing sound. His throat was dry and clenched, breath halting, and his fingers were tightly gripping worn fabric.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know what was wrong, and that in turn just made him feel worse because if there was nothing wrong _why did he feel this way, it’s irrational, something’s wrong with him or if there is something wrong then he’s not helping because he doesn’t know what to do and what if Patton is hurt because he doesn’t save him because he wouldn’t feel like this for no reason and..._

He felt a small whimper make its way out of his throat, and suddenly he was being held even closer, cradled in strong and comforting arms as a soft voice whispered unintelligible reassurances into his ear, slowly pushing aside the buzzing that filled Virgil’s head until the gentle baritone was all he could hear.

And even though it sounded wrong, a little too loud and bombastic even in a whisper, the tone just a tiny bit off, Virgil relaxed, turning his face to press into the other’s chest. His ears were still ringing slightly, which was probably distorting Patton’s voice. Nothing to worry about. He just needed to breathe.

He nuzzled more into Patton’s chest, trying to seek out some kind of warmth to stop his shivering. Why was he so cold? Had he accidentally kicked away his blanket in his sleep again? Taking another deep breath, even with his face pressed against the other’s chest, he almost jerked back in surprise as, once again, something was off. He had expected to inhale the smell of warmth and comfort that always seemed to surround Patton, a weird, but surprisingly pleasant, mix of cookies and cut grass that somehow remained even in the dark and dreary place where he lived. Instead, his nose was flooded with the scent of candle wax, ink, and roses, almost making his head spin with the overbearing odor of the sickly sweet flowers. And then, almost hidden by the flowery scent… an underlying smell of death. Very subtly, but it was there. Decay and rotting flesh.

“Lo…. ‘s like…. a kitten…!” he vaguely heard a voice squeal, and his questions of the strange smell fell away as he felt the corners of his mouth twitch up slightly. Yup, that was definitely Patton.

Until he pulled away and -finally forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly as he was temporarily blinded even in the dim light, and he saw that it was definitely _not_ Patton.

Instantly, Virgil was pushing himself away, half-crawling on trembling limbs as he felt his breath stick in his throat. His eyes trained on the other’s dark blue ones, and, as his back hit the wall, the memories rushed over him in flood.

_The wedding rehearsal… the panic attack… Patton… practicing in the woods… a pressure on his wrist… lovestruck, deep blue eyes staring at him from under a curtain of hair, looking almost purple in the moonlight… a pressure on his lips… frozen in terror… and then darkness…_

Well, at least now the smell made sense.

“Y… y-y-you…” Virgil breathed, and the corpse looked at him in a mixture of sympathy and confusion.

“Yes, it is me, my love,” he responded, and Virgil winced as the other’s boisterous tone echoed around the small room. The other, noticing him flinch, scratched the back of his neck nervously. “My apologies,” he said in a softer voice. “But yes, it’s me.”

“But… b-b-but… I… you’re…” Virgil didn’t know what he was trying to say, but he could feel his breath beginning to get out of control again, heart beating fast in his chest.

There was a quiet squeaking noise, and then a black creature revealed itself from behind the other’s neck, settling on his shoulder. He seemed to nuzzle at the corpse’s ear, the man tilting his head slightly as if listening to the rat’s (...or maybe a mouse? The figure seemed to be either a large mouse or a small rat) squeaks, before nodding and holding out an arm.

The rat (he officially decided on the creature being a small rat) scampered down the length of the corpse’s arm, sitting back on his haunches on the outstretched palm held before Virgil’s face, and then cleared his throat.

Wait… they…. cleared their throat…?

“Salutations,” the rat said calmly.

And, surprising even to Virgil himself, rather than scream, jump, flinch, or even blink, the man just nodded politely in return.

“Hey,” he said in return. “So, you look t-too small t-to be a rat, but too b-big to b-be a m-mouse. What exactly are y-y-you?”

Surprising himself yet again, he found that his voice was calm and steady, besides the usual stutter. The only explanation he could think of was that he had officially passed pure terror, and after the accumulated exhaustion of the anxiety over the wedding practice, the panic attack, somehow raised a dead man after apparently marrying him, the added weight of a talking animal had finally just pushed his mind too far, leaving him in an almost numbing sense of calm. Though kinda concerning, it was probably preferable to passing out again.

Scratching at the corner of his left eye, the creature gave him a curious glance. “Surprising you should ask that. Though I am small compared to others of my species as you astutely observed, I am indeed a rat. Merely a simple Rattus Rattus, or the common black rat.”

Alright, so he was talking to a rat. A common black rat, to be precise. Cool. Compared to everything else that had happened, he thought he could deal with this. Ignoring the elephant in the room, or rather, the corpse holding said rat out to him, he tentatively held out a shaking hand. The rat sniffed at his fingers curiously, making Virgil’s lips quirk up in the corners at the tickling of his whiskers, before hopping over onto his hand.

“Have you a-always b-been able to t-talk?” Virgil asked as the creature made his way up his coat sleeve, taking a seat on his shoulder near his right ear as he had on the corpse. He fought the urge to move at the tickling of small paws on his arms, not wanting to scare the small creature.

“I’ve always been able to talk,” was the rat’s only reply as he sniffed at the coat fabric, giving a small nod before settling back on his haunches. “All animals have that capability. The real question I feel as though you should be asking is when you were able to start hearing.”

“...What?”

“Oh, don’t listen to Logan, he’s just trying to sound cryptid to be smart or whatever,” another voice cut their conversation off, and Virgil’s head jerked up before remembering the corpse was still standing in front of him.

Oh… yeah… The corpse…

Filing away the rat’s name (‘ _Logan_ ,’ he mentally repeated to himself), he turned his attention back to the figure who had gotten him into this situation.

“So, uh… yeah, sorry, I, uh… wh-where... Who… who a-are you?” Virgil finally stuttered out. “And where a-am I?” The corpse simply grinned, opening his mouth to answer, but being cut off by Logan’s voice.

“Well, that’s quite a long story,” the rat said dismissively, turning around a couple times before curling comfortably into a ball on Virgil’s shoulder.

“But oh, what a story it is! A tale of romance, passion, and a betrayal most heartbreaking!” the other exclaimed loudly. His movements were very animated, every word seeming to merit an exaggerated arm movement as he seemed to need to attract attention to every word that he spoke. He shot Virgil a wink, adding, “But, do not fear. All shall be explained soon!” Pulling out a clump of folded papers from his breast pocket, he began to unfold them as he turned and walked to a sheet-covered item sitting against the side wall of the room. Grabbing the dusty sheet in one hand, the corpse tugged the fabric off in one dramatic gesture, revealing…

“...A… piano? But how did you get an actual piano down to… wherever this is?” Virgil questioned gesturing around them with his hands, and the corpse shrugged.

“You’re in the Land of the Dead, darling!” Seeing Virgil pale, he quickly rushed to explain. “Oh, but, do not fear, you aren’t dead. Well, completely, anyway. Think of it as you being in an… an in-between place. You’re still alive, but your deep connection to the dead, via our marriage, allows you to come here! And apparently, that’s why you can understand Logan? Something about our sealing giving you a connection to the dead and all of the creatures closely related to that without you actually dying, I think?” Waving a hand dismissively at the other’s shoulder, the corpse shrugged. “Lo worked out the logistics. I’m actually... not really sure how we got you down here, to be honest. But, anyway, as for your first question… people are buried with the strangest things and, somehow, it all ends up down here. But, that’s beside the point! A beautiful instrument such as this shouldn’t just be collecting dust under a sheet like this. It’s meant to be played!” Cracking his knuckles, Virgil wincing as his skeletal joints sounded like they were going to snap, he set the now unfolded lump of papers on the sheet holder, revealing some messily scrawled sheet music. “And, lucky coincidence, I just happen to have something prepared!”

He threw another smile at the man, as he pressed down the keys in a chord… and then frowned as the notes came out jumbled and wrong. Trying another chord, frowning slightly as the notes once again rang out in a strange clash, he turned his attention completely back to the piano. “...Well, uh… just as soon as I fix this tiny problem at the beginning…” A few more notes later, and the corpse already looked completely done with life… or, in his case… death?

“Well, it’s an old instrument, maybe-”

“It’s in perfect working order,” the rat cut him off, climbing out from where he had somehow gotten under the piano lid. Virgil hadn’t even felt him leave his shoulder. “Whatever notes sound wrong are of your own doing alone.”

Virgil stifled a laugh, and the corpse mumbled something under his breath. Judging by the way the rat glared at him, it wasn’t the most flattering remark. Taking another breath, the man tried another chord, and then another...

Which was how Virgil found himself in this situation, sitting curled up in a corner in a decrepit room, no clue as to where he really was, holding a rat that was rambling about the side effects of the living and dead being joined in such a way while his corpse husband was practicing something on the piano.

“Hmm… that still doesn’t sound quite right…” the corpse muttered, changing his hand position to try a different chord, and then another one an octave higher. Logan had once again taken his place on Virgil’s neck, trying to ask and answer any questions that he thought the other might have, the man remaining silent as his brain still tried to figure out what was going on. After a listening to a couple more attempted chords, both wincing at each, the corpse grabbed the sheet music and began refilling through them. “What the heckity heck… I could’ve sworn I had revised the entire thing already…”

“You didn’t have an instrument with you to physically try out the notes on,” the rat reminded the other, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s only understandable that you’re having trouble with it.”

And then the corpse was trying another note, then another, beginning to get visibly frustrated at each wrong choice. “I’m… I’m sincerely sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve… but I thought I’d be able to play when the time came…”

“An A sharp w-would work t-there, I t-think “ Virgil found himself saying, and he froze as the others head snapped towards him.

“You compose?” he asked quickly, and Virgil was surprised to hear that he sounded… excited? He turned back to the piano, trying said chord, and he grinned widely as the notes finally rang out in a pleasing chord. “Oh my goodness, you do! Why didn’t you mention this before?”

”Um… n-no, not really, I, uh, occasionally p-played…”

The other's eyes lit up, and he quickly made a mark on the paper before shoving it onto the stand and bounding towards Virgil. “Oh, this is just perfect!” Before Virgil could respond, the other’s cold hand was in his warm one, and he was being tugged down to sit on the creaking piano bench.

Virgil looked in confusion at the cracking keys, then up at the corpse, who was grinning at him from his position now lounging atop the piano. “Ready when you are, sweetheart,” he said with a wink, then began tapping out a rhythm with his bony fingers.

_Tap tap tap tap-tap, tap, tap tap tap tap-tap…_

Virgil found his foot tapping along to the rhythm, and, not sure what else he could do, began to play, fingers flying down the keys as he tried to keep the beat, barely being able to sight read the scrawled notes in front of him in enough time to play them.

Something tickled his neck, and he heard a small squeak near his ear. He jumped slightly at that, stumbling over the notes as he fought the urge to slap his neck, almost forgetting about the creature residing there. “Relax, it’s just me,” he heard Logan’s voice calmly assure him, accompanied by a cool touch of a small paw. He caught a glimpse of the rat’s dark fur out of the corner of his eye before he focused back on hitting the right notes.

The tempo seemed upbeat, and maybe a bit… jazzy? He hadn’t much experience with this genre of music, but he tried his best to make the notes more staccato to compensate. The result sounded more like a weird mix between classical and jazz; an upbeat tune that sort of bled from one note to the next fluidly. Still trying to get it right, he felt his breath hitch as the figure atop the piano began to sing, thrown off by the power behind the almost angelic, yet somehow still as boisterous as his normal voice, singing.

_“Sit down and listen, gather around,_  
_You’re probably wondering how I ended up in the ground,_  
_Let me tell you a tale, make everyone cry in a room,_  
_Of the tragedy befalling this handsome corpse groom…”_

“...Wait… s-so he actually wrote a s-song about his d-death?” Virgil whispered in confusion to the creature on his shoulder as the other kept singing, and he felt the rat’s breath and wiggling whiskers tickle his neck as he sighed.

“He’s been composing it ever since he started _de_ composing. Actually one of the only reasons I stuck with his rotten hide. It’s so difficult to find someone with a genuine appreciation for poetry and rhyming nowadays. But, anyway, I’m sure the offhandedness is a coping mechanism,” Logan finished, flicking his tail against Virgil’s neck as the other fell off beat with the playing. “Detaching oneself from a traumatic situation such as his... It’s honestly to be expected.”

“You like p-poetry?” Virgil asked quietly, getting back on rhythm.

“Don’t you?”

The corpse jumped back into song again, and Virgil jolted back into the present as he realized he had missed what he guessed was the chorus. He would normally look back on the sheet music to see what he had missed, but he was still struggling with the notes slightly, and besides, the chicken scratch he assumed were the lyrics weren’t legible anyway.

_“I was a beauty_  
_Known for miles around_  
_Then a mysterious stranger_  
_Came into town_  
_He was pretty dang fine_  
_Though not more than I_  
_But he had a charm around him_  
_That just caught my eye_  
_Though my marriage was sealed_  
_I just couldn’t cope_  
_So we both came up_  
_With a plan to elope”_

Virgil was getting into it now, fingers finding their way to the right notes with almost no mistakes. And as he found himself more comfortable with his playing, beginning to even enjoy it almost, he found part of his mind latching onto the story. He could sort of see where this was going, but he’d let the man have his moment. Playing the tune behind the chorus, he made sure he listened to the lyrics this time.

_“Die, Die, we all pass away_  
_Don’t wear a frown, ‘cause it’s really okay_  
_We might try to dream of a fairy tale place_  
_But ever afters aren’t always happy display…”_

And then the other’s voice fell away, leaving Virgil’s piano part to stand alone. The other still tapping on the top of the piano lid, acting as a metronome of sorts, Virgil continued to play, getting more of a feel for the style of music as his fingers danced over the black and white keys. He almost felt comfortable enough to add a slight flair to the measures, throw something of his own in there, but decided against it, not wanting to mess the rhythm up. And then the short solo was over, leading Virgil once again into a verse as the other cleared his throat and began to sing.

_“So we came up with a plan_  
_To meet late at night_  
_Told but one soul_  
_Though D said it wasn’t right_  
_Said goodbye to my brother_  
_Gave him one last hug_  
_He said we didn’t need a blessing_  
_Only our love_  
_Except D convinced me_  
_And I should’ve known_  
_When he requested I bring_  
_The gold my family owned_  
_Then next to the graveyard_  
_By the old oak tree_  
_On a dark foggy night_  
_At a quarter to three_  
_I was ready to go_  
_...but where was he?”_

He trailed off, then looked to Virgil expectantly.

“S-So…?”

“I waited,” the corpse replied casually, examining the remaining nails on his non-skeletal hand.

“And t-then?”

“There was a movement in the shadows, was it my man?”

“And then?”

“My heart beat so fast, ready to run into his arms…”

Breathlessly, Virgil kept his eyes locked on the corpse’s, fingers still dancing over the keys in a repetitive tune. “T-Then…?” he breathed. He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so invested. But the way the other was laying this out for him, the way he was spinning this tale... He had to admit, it was pretty clever how he had written this out, and he had to give the other credit for getting him hooked. Obviously, he knew that the encounter ended badly, and he was sure that the someone waiting in the shadows was him and his lover’s killer, but…

The corpse’s voice dropped to a lower whisper, taking on a more somber tone as he continued.

“ _I had let him have my sword,_  
_as he said he’d protect me._  
_But little did I know_  
_he’d be the one to wreck me_.”

Virgil made a choking sound, fingers stumbling over the keys and hitting all the wrong notes, hands shaking so much he had to stop. “W-W-Wait...H-He… your f-fiancé… he… h-he…?”

He knew that the other was already dead; that the damage was done, that this was just a story that happened long ago, but…

To be stabbed in the back by the one you thought loved you... Virgil wouldn’t wish that upon anyone, especially not this admittedly charming corpse that he was beginning to become fond of.

He almost smiled to himself at that thought. Thank goodness he hadn’t said that aloud; the other would never let him hear the end of him calling him ‘charming,’ even if it was true. In a way, it was similar to his first meeting with Patton, if only a bit more unorthodox. Only knowing the other for a short while, with extremely limited interaction, he still felt… well, he didn’t know what he felt towards the other, but there was already a connection. Strange, to say the least, but he’d have to step back and examine these feelings later.

At the thought of Patton, his heart panged for a different reason than the climax of his husband’s tale. No matter how charming the other was, he still had to find some way to get out of here. As much as he was beginning to enjoy the other’s company, he was still a living person with a living groom waiting for him back home.  
  
There was a small sound, pulling Virgil from his thoughts. And then skeletal fingers were tracing his face, tilting it up gently so that he was looking into the shining eyes of his apparent husband. “It’s in the past,” he whispered quietly, tucking a wild strand of Virgil’s hair back behind his ear. “Breathe, okay, darling?”

Virgil numbly nodded, willing his fingers to begin plunking out the tune again, pushing the internal conflict to the back of his mind. He could at least let the other finish the song. One last caress, and then the skeleton hand was gone, Virgil surprisingly missing the touch as the other began singing again with his usual, heartening tone.

“ _When I opened my eyes_  
_I had been left to choke_  
_My gold was missing_  
_And my heart was broke_  
_So I made a vow_  
_Buried under that tree_  
_That I’d wait for my true love_  
_To come set me free_  
_I was waiting for someone_  
_To ask for my hand_  
_Then out of the night_  
_Comes this dashing young man…_ ” Raising Virgil’s hand to his lips, he laid a gentle kiss on the warm skin before continuing.

“ _He vowed to marry me_  
_Slid a ring on my hand_  
_And that’s the tragedy_  
_Of the groom, Roman_.”

He jumped into the chorus again, but this time, there was a noticeable shift in the mood, and Virgil was surprised to see that the other’s smile has softened and was directly completely at him.

“ _Die, Die, we all pass away,_  
_Don’t wear a frown, because it’s really okay,_  
_Thanks to a charming prince, so handsome and tall..._ ” His voice rang out true, drawing out the last words as his eyes stayed firmly glued to Virgil’s. Then his face was being gently caressed again, and the corpse sang the last line quietly, as if for the other’s ears alone.

“ _Some ever afters end up happy after all._ ”

His mouth had fallen open slightly as the corpse’s heavenly voice trailed off, and he felt a heat rush across his cheeks.

He didn’t know where to begin. Between the man’s singing voice, the story itself, the twist of the lover’s betrayal, and then… when the tone had changed at the end (he felt his cheeks heat up as he replayed the other’s voice at that moment, his eyes, his _smile_....), there was so much he wanted to say. After an applause, maybe? His nails dug into his palms as he tried to figure out how to continue. And then he shook himself out of his thoughts, realizing that the other was still staring at him, waiting, waiting…

Oh. He was waiting for Virgil’s response on something he had obviously poured his soul into, that was intended only for him, and here he was, gaping like a fish on dry land with a face that was probably still an unbecoming bright red. Opening up his mouth to speak, he tried to find a way to formulate his thoughts, to try and put them into words, to even find where to begin…

“The l-last l-line of the final verse w-was a bit… off,” was all he managed to say, and he quickly jumped up, piano bench grating on the floor as it was pushed back, as he saw the others face fall.

Of course, of _course_ he’d say something stupid like that! Even if the strange rhyme had caught his attention (him secretly thinking that even he could replace the words with a better rhyme) everything else was extremely well written and merited more attention than the one weird part he had heard.

Wincing as Logan dug his paws into his shoulder to keep from falling, he nervously waved his hands as if to stop the other. “I-I’m s-s-sorry, I… I… I didn’t m-mean… I just…”

“No, it’s fine. Constructive criticism is…” The other sighed before pushing himself up, then sliding off of the piano. “...is fine. I just… I’ve been working on it for a while, so I must ask, what was off about it? I’d like to remedy it as soon as possible.”

“N-N-No, n-no, it wasn’t b-bad,” Virgil stumbled over his own words in a hurry to say them. “It’s just, uh, t-the last line… _R-Row Man_? I just d-d-don’t get it, y’know? How a man r-rowing has anything to d-do with the s-story, and, uh, maybe there’s a m-more appropriate line…? It d-did rhyme, t-though, so, it served its p-purpose! I, uh, I… I’m s-sorry, it was y-your song, I s-shouldn’t have…”

There was stunned silence as Virgil shrunk in on himself, and then he felt the rat on his shoulder beginning to shake. He turned to look in concern, only for the rat to burst into laughter. Looking cautiously at the corpse now standing beside him, he saw that he was laughing as well.

“You… you thought it was row-man? As… as in two separate words?” the corpse managed to say between bouts of hearty laughter. Virgil felt his cheeks burn, this time in a different way, and he looked down to where his hands were clasped in his lap, still shaking. “No, oh no, my precious stormcloud, Logan wouldn’t ever allow me to end with something so out of context, nor would I want to. The last rhyme before the chorus is in reference to my name, my dearest.”

“Your n-name is...Roman?” Virgil reaffirmed quietly as the other two’s peals of laughter finally began to trail off. The name tickled at the back of his mind, as if him hearing it should have more significance, but him not knowing why. “I… I’m s-sorry, Roman, I d-d-didn’t mean t-to… stifle your…” He gestured randomly with his hands. “...c-creative whimsy, or whatever. It honestly was… pretty a-amazing. Composing is s-s-something I’ve a-a-always admired, and you’re obviously r-r-really skilled with the notes and… yeah…” His head ducked down again, and he just stared at his hands, feeling an ugly feeling building up in his stomach.

“Oh, my dearest…” The corpse’s voice had dropped back down to that soft voice that had Virgil blushing again, even as his stomach turned. “You did nothing wrong, and I’m more than flattered to hear you say such appreciative words of my work.” Virgil didn’t respond, still looking down at his hands, trying to figure out what to say.

“Oh… oh Roman, you absolute dunce!” the man finally muttered to himself in seemingly sudden realization, lightly slapping his forehead. “We haven’t even properly exchanged names, have we, darling?” Virgil shook his head in the most minuscule of moments, glancing up slightly at the other. “I guess I was just a tad…” Roman just gestured at Virgil, and then his eyes flickered down to the floor in almost uncharacteristic shyness. His hand wandered back to his face, cupping his cheek as his eyes flickered back up to Virgil, and then back down to the floor, and Virgil got the sense that if the other’s circulatory system was still pumping blood, he would be blushing. “I, uh… can’t believe that slipped my mind! I’m… rather flustered about this, actually. My apologies.” Taking Virgil’s hand in his, he bowed low, cold lips lightly brushing the back of his hand with a much different mood than when he had done the same during the song. “I suppose I should introduce myself formally, yes?” He started quietly as he straightened up. “My name is Roman Fa…” He frowned as he trailed off, and then his voice dropped to a murmur as he seemed to mull over something in his mind. “I… I guess I... haven’t given much thought to my last name in a while… I’m certainly not keeping his…” He looked up at Virgil questioningly. “Perhaps… you... I could take…” He immediately cut himself off, shaking his head. “Never mind that, this is still so new, for both you and I. Just Roman for now, my dearest. May I now know the name of my savior?”

Weirdly enough, it was the name that finally broke Virgil. For suddenly, the gravity of the situation he found himself in suddenly washed over him, as if the floodgates holding back all of his worries had suddenly broken under the pressure, leaving Virgil to desperately push back on the gates.

There was no way this real. No way. There was no way a corpse named Roman had suddenly stolen away his future with Patton away with his talking rat. This had to be a dream or something.

He just stared at the man in front of him, now-shivering hands fumbled for his sleeves, pulling back the worn fabric to pinch his wrist. And then he pinched himself again. And again. Again. Again. Trying to wake himself up from this surreal dream that he found himself to be stuck in.

There was a movement as Roman reached for him, most likely to pry his hands away from where they were now moving up to dig his nails into his arms, but Logan simply held up a paw. The corpse stopped in his tracks, and at another motion from the rat, held out his hand and let the rat scamper down to his hand, looking level into the other’s fear-blown eyes.

It took a moment for Virgil to realize that he was muttering his thoughts under his breath. “C...c’nt be r-r-real… h’s t’be a d-d-dream…” He took a few shaky steps backward, eyes trained on the figures in front of him.

“A dream?” asked Logan quizzically, and Virgil nodded slightly. The rat sat back on his haunches, surveying him for a second. His head tilted to the side, as if thinking, and then bluntly asked him, “Do you typically act as you do now?”

“...Wh-what?”

“Why don’t you take a seat while we talk?” Logan prompted, and Virgil sank to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his shaking arms around them as Roman knelt in front of him. “Alright, that’s better. Keep breathing, but please answer the question. The actions you are displaying right now,” the creature expounded. “Are they typical? Stuttering, nervous habits involving playing with hands and sleeves, demonstrating signs of an anxiety disorder, etcetera. Are these unordinary behaviors?”

Virgil just shrugged, biting at his lip as he mulled over the question the dream rat had asked him. Thinking it over, he eventually shook his head, letting his bangs fall comfortably over his eyes. His parents always insisted that he keep his hair neatly brushed to the side, but they weren’t here to chastise him right now, and hiding behind anything seemed good right now. “No, that’s p-p-pretty n-normal.” He refused to look at Roman, though he could feel the other’s stare burning into his head.

“Interesting. Now, look at your hand,” Logan stated. Virgil just stared blankly at him, and the creature let out a sigh that seemed too big to have come from such a small body. “Please, trust me on this. Look at your hand.”

Virgil looked down at his left hand, only now noticing that his nails were still digging into his arm. Loosening his grip, he flexed his fingers, and then held it out slightly. “Yeah?” he said quietly.

“Could you please count the number of fingers that you possess on one hand?”

Virgil dropped his hand, giving the creature another curious stare. “What’s the p-point of this, I know I h-h-have five f-fingers.”

“Count them. Out loud, so that I can hear,” the rat restated, ignoring the other’s question.

“One, two, three, four, five,” Virgil mumbled, wiggling each finger as he counted them off. “Look a-at that, I w-w-was right,” he added sarcastically under his breath.

“I never said you were wrong,” was all Logan said in reply, and then he was off, climbing up a stack of books to Virgil’s left. “Here.” A thick, dusty book fell with a thump to the floor, and the man flinched back at the sound. “Open that book to any page.” Still not following the rat’s point in all of this, Virgil just gave in, picking up and opening the cover of the book, flipping through some of the pages. Settling on one near the end of the book, he looked at the creature for more instructions.

The rat climbed onto the page, scanning the words, and then nodding slightly. “Commendable choice. Alright, now read lines 3 through 5.” Tapping where he should start, Logan looked up expectantly.

“Why d-do I need to-”

“Please,” he interrupted, tapping at the line in the middle of the stanza again. “Read. Out loud again, if you would.”

“ _...that s-she might think me s-some untutored y-youth, unlearned i-in the w-w-world’s…_ ” Taking a deep breath, Virgil tried again. “ _...in the world’s false subtleties, thus vainly thinking that she thinks me y-young…_ ”

“Satisfactory,” the rat cut him off, sounding pleased with himself. “And, what page is that sonnet located on?”

Looking at the lower left-hand corner of the page, Virgil brushed away a thin layer of dust, and then looked up at the other. “Page 573,” he said quietly.

“You are doing perfectly,” Logan reassured him, brushing lightly against his arm as he made his way to Virgil’s side. “Now, throw it.”

“Logan! That’s the fifth volume of the leather-bound waxed-parchment second printed edition! You can’t just tell him to-” The book hit to the ground behind Roman with a thud, and Virgil had to bite back a smile at the look on his face as his head snapped back towards Logan. “You absolute… street rat,” he growled venomously as he picked it up, dusting it off with one hand before hugging it firmly to his chest. Virgil couldn’t help but giggle at that, and the other’s eyes went wide, mouth dropping open slightly. Feeling his cheeks flush, Virgil quickly covered his mouth before turning back towards Logan.

And then it finally clicked.

“Oh… _oh_ ,” Virgil said in quiet realization, a small smile spreading onto his face. “Even in my dreams, I’ve got a puffball in glasses helping me.” Holding the rat up so he could look him in the eye, he giggled quietly as the rat brushed at his eyes with confusion written in his eyes, darker markings around his eyes reminiscent of spectacles, reminding Virgil of how Patton would always adjust his glasses when thinking about what to say.

“I’m afraid I’m not following your path of thinking,” Logan replied slowly, tilting his head to the side curiously.

“He’d always distract me, get me to focus on anything but the internal turmoil, drag me out of that spiral…” Virgil murmured under his breath. “Of course he’d affect me enough to somehow work his way in and save me in my dreams.”

“Quite the contrary, I merely had you perform those tasks in order to provide data in which to prove you wrong.” In a blink, the creature had made his way back up Virgil’s arm, taking a place on his shoulder. “Dreaming often can be distinguished from reality by numerous small, but common, inconsistencies,” he began, jumping into what seemed to Virgil like a prepared monologue. The man had to fight the urge to laugh as the rat’s whiskered ticked his neck, biting his lip when a smile broke through. “The most common ways that have been explored are as follows: inner awareness, action, form, and context.” And then the rat had leaped to the ground, scampering to sit on the floor in front of Virgil. In the time that Virgil and Logan had been conversing, Roman had quietly made his way back towards the two, taking his place sitting cross-legged a few strides away from the living man. Apparently too excited to stay still, the rat began pacing between the two men, tail swishing in Virgil’s direction as he settled on a point and fell to a stop. “To begin: Inner Awareness. In dreams, one is more likely to have strange thoughts and behaviors that are contrary to their everyday lives. You have already stated that you are behaving as per normal, ergo, there is evidence to support that you are not currently engaged in a sleeping state.

“The second point: Form. In dreams, as they are not bound by the laws of reality, often stray away from how things look in real life. One common way to test if one is in a dream is to examine the form of themselves, or of others. For instance, focusing on a single limb in a dream, such as a foot or an arm, may lead to a distortion within the dream, as there’s no need for your mind to hold the exact form of the limb within the dream. An absence of this distortion may indicate that one is not within a dream. As for the third point, Action, most activities within dreams seem to be… off. Walking and not going anywhere, flight, shrinking, or objects behaving as if they aren’t bound to any set rules. Throwing a book, for example, typically won’t result in a way that it might in the real world, your mind deciding to let it float around or disappear instead of it falling to the ground as gravity would dictate. The fourth is context, which doesn’t help us much in this situation, as you have made it clear that the situation that you find yourself in is abnormal. However, besides these four main guidelines, there are also a few miscellaneous facts that may be of use, namely, oneirologists’ claims that we are unable to read words nor numbers within dreams. You’ve made it clear that you can read. I can assure you that you are not dreaming.”

There was a moment of silence, and then: “... Emile helped you sneak into the library again, didn’t he? Logan, you know how much Rem hates it when you get into his things!”

“He’s the only one in this entire continent that has somehow come into possession of any books regarding the study of oneirology! They are immensely more interesting than the flowery language populating your bibliotheca; you simply can’t expect me to resist such a temptation!”

The other’s banter faded to the background as Virgil sat frozen in sudden realization.

He guessed he hadn’t really thought that this was a dream. Some part of him had known that this was real, so why was he so surprised? Why was he feeling this way? Why couldn’t he stop shaking, why couldn't he breathe, why couldn’t he accept his reality…?

“Virgil,” he said breathlessly as he pushed himself to a standing position, almost falling over at the sudden blood rush to his head.

Roman and Logan both quickly stopped their bickering and looked at him, the other man standing suddenly and reaching out to catch him as he leaned dangerously to the side. “What was that, dearest?” Roman asked, sounding concerned.

“V...V-Virgil, my.. m’name’s Vir… I just… I j-just need a moment, alright?” Virgil managed to gasp out, and then he was pushing past the corpse and dashing out the nearest door, slamming the depleted wood behind him before he collapsed.

He just managed to push himself into a leaning position against the door in a last ditch effort to save face in front of the handsome corpse before he felt another wave of paralyzing fear wash over him. Luckily, between bullies and misunderstanding parents, he had a lot of practice at going through these attacks silently, and he had just a moment of clarity to thank whatever gods allowed him that small piece of fortune before he utterly, but quietly, fell apart.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! You made it to the end! Link to the song from the movie that I changed up a bit [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4p9WKnDQzQ), and link to a piano version of that same song that I imagined to be played [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gWtod34PEhk). Hope this was decent, and please, leave any critiques in the comments!
> 
> OH AND THE AMAZING ROSESANDSTUFF DREW SOMETHING FOR THIS ON [TUMBLR](https://rosesandstuff.tumblr.com/post/177413804900/the-mans-soft-lips-parted-and-virgil-found) GO CHECK IT OUT BECAUSE IT'S AMAZING


End file.
